‘But…I can’t.’ Grace looked away, then back at him. ‘It’s so tempting, believe me. I thought about it last night, about running off overseas with you, seeing the world. And I almost called you then and there to say yes, but it just isn’t right for me, not now. And then I thought maybe I could go for a month or two and fly back on my own, but I knew if I went, I wouldn’t want to leave, and that would be even harder.’
Jonah stood silently, nodding, his lips clamped together in reluctant acceptance.
‘After performing last night, I realised that’s what I want. I want to live and breathe music. I’ve been holding back so long, scared of getting sick again, and I can’t do it anymore. I have to pursue my dreams, and make the most of being well. Who knows what’ll happen down the track, but I can’t live in fear anymore.’ Grace fought back tears, but a rogue one escaped.
‘I wanted so much for you to come with me, but you’re right, you have a gift and you need to make a go of it.’ Jonah wiped the tear from Grace’s cheek with his thumb.
‘I’ve decided to audition for the Sydney Conservatorium of Music,’ Grace said. ‘In November.’
Jonah’s eyes widened. ‘Wow. You’ll get in for sure, I know it.’
Grace shrugged. ‘We’ll see, but I hope so. I’ve been looking at the website and I’m really excited.’
‘If you perform anything like you did last night you’ll blow them away,’ Jonah said. ‘And you’ve got the complete package—the skill, and the looks.’
Grace smiled, and ran her finger around his jawline, taking in a deep breath. ‘I’m going back to Melbourne next week to stay with Dad until my audition. I want to spend as much time as I can with him before I move to Sydney, that is, if I get in.’
‘You’ll get in.’
‘Sylvia’s coming with me, just for a few days. She wants to meet my dad,’ Grace continued. ‘So, it looks like I won’t be back this way until November, and by then…you’ll be gone.’ Another tear escaped Grace’s eye, and as she looked down, it dropped to the ground before Jonah could wipe it away. When she looked up, Grace saw that Jonah’s eyes were red and glossy, and his lips were clamped tighter together than before.
‘I’ll miss you, Grace Forrester.’ He pulled her close and kissed her with such emotion that Grace felt she would have collapsed had it not been for his arms wrapped tightly around her. She didn’t want it to stop, knowing it would be their last kiss, her mind trying hard to store the memory of the moment.
‘I won’t forget you,’ Grace said as they reluctantly pulled away, arms still entwined around each other.
‘I won’t forget you either,’ Jonah replied. ‘How could I? You’ll be a household name before too long, and I’ll be in the audience for one of your sell-out shows, that’s for sure.’
‘I might even write a piece of music about you.’
‘You would?’
‘Yeah, I reckon I will. But I won’t let you hear it until one of my ‘sell-out-shows’, so you’ll have to try and guess which one it is,’ Grace said.
‘So you won’t be calling it something obvious like The Most Amazing Guy In The World?’ Jonah grinned.
‘Ha ha, no. Sorry. It’ll be something cryptic. Although Geek at Heart might be a good title.’ Grace giggled.
Jonah tickled her under the arms. ‘Don’t you dare expose my secret!’
Laughing and wriggling, Grace urged him to stop. ‘I promise, I won’t. I promise!’
‘You sure?’ Jonah intensified his tickling attack, until he succumbed to her protests and enveloped her in his arms again. His warm breath on her neck masked the cool breeze as it leapt up from the ocean.
‘So I guess this is goodbye,’ Grace said.
‘For now. I’m sure you won’t be able to stay away from Tarrin’s Bay forever.’
‘I’ll visit often, I’m sure.’
‘Well, when I get back from overseas and go back to work, I’ll be sure to keep a morange and ango juice chilled for you.’ Jonah winked.
Grace laughed at the memory. ‘Will it be squeshly freezed?’ she asked.
‘Nothing but the real deal for you, Grace.’ He kissed her one last time, briefly, as though to not dilute the passionate one from before.
Grace wanted to tell Jonah how much he’d meant to her, how much more magical this year had been because of him, and how he was her first real love. But now seemed the most appropriate time to leave. She wanted to remember him as he was now, smiling and joking around. Sure, they might see each other again someday, but as Grace knew all too well, life could change in an instant, and nothing was guaranteed. So she took a step backwards, and then another, her hands still holding his, until they dropped away gently and the only thing connecting them to each other was the gaze of their unblinking eyes. She didn’t look away until the hard surface of the footpath met her feet. And as Jonah waved and flashed his delicious smile, Grace turned and walked down the hill, engraving the memory of his eyes in her mind alongside the memory of his kiss, the warm tingle of it still lingering on her lips.
Chapter 36
‘Olivia was sad to see you leave Mrs May’s, Grace. She said you were the best sales assistant they’d had.’ Sylvia walked with Grace down the pebbled path leading into the cemetery, an icy Melbourne wind throwing their hair all about.
‘I’ll miss it, and them. I feel bad leaving on such short notice, but with it being the anniversary of Mum’s death, I thought now would be the best time to come back here,’ Grace said. ‘And anyway, my friend Lauren is looking for casual work, so I got her an interview at the bookstore.’
Although she was coping well, Sylvia had noticed the deep sadness in Grace’s eyes this morning as they’d eaten breakfast at the hotel. They’d been to the theatre the night before, and were going to be spending a few days together in the city. Then she’d leave Grace with her dad, and fly back to Sydney. Back to Tarrin’s Bay. Back to the life she wasn’t sure if Mark was still to be a part of. But work would keep her busy as usual, especially now that Mr Benson was out of hospital, he’d need more regular care. She’d felt bad leaving town for a few days, knowing Mr Benson would want to see her, but Dr Bronovski assured her he’d take care of him.
‘There he is,’ Grace said, pointing to a thin man with silvery hair, standing with his hands in his pockets in front of a grave. Grace ran towards him, her shoulder bag bouncing up and down, and he met her halfway with an enthusiastic embrace. ‘Sylvia, this is my dad, David. Dad, this is Sylvia,’ Grace said when Sylvia caught up with them.
What do you say to the man who raised your daughter? The man who’d fed and provided for her since birth, taught her how to ride a bike, consoled her when she was sick? Weariness surrounded his pale eyes, but an expression of kindness overshadowed it. You could tell by looking at him he was a decent man. A man who stood by his family and loved them unconditionally.
‘It’s so nice to meet you, David.’ Sylvia held out her hand, but he didn’t take it. He stretched out both his arms and welcomed her with a hug. At first, Sylvia’s shoulders stiffened, then softened as he whispered, ‘thank you’, in her ear. They might not have met before, but they were inextricably connected, and their combined love for Grace was powerful beyond measure.
Words seemed unnecessary as they walked over to the grave of Maria Forrester and laid down a bunch of flowers, staring at the headstone, as though waiting for some kind of response. Some sign that she knew they were there. Grace stood in between Sylvia and her father, and as she sobbed softly, Sylvia put a hand on her pulsing back. David did the same, though he was surely hurting too. Fallen leaves wafted around the headstone, gently lifted up and down by the wind, and the noise of the nearby city seemed to fade away. Although standing in front of the grave of a woman she’d never met, Sylvia felt she’d come to know Maria through Grace, and found herself becoming teary-eyed as well.
After a while, Grace straightened up and turned towards her father. ‘Dad, there’s something I want to give you. I was going
to give it to you for Christmas, but I can’t wait till then.’ She led him to the comforting shelter of a nearby tree and as they sat on the small bench, Grace withdrew the memory album from her bag, handing it to her father. She’d shown Sylvia the album at the hotel. It was a beautiful monument in remembrance of Maria, and a promising reminder of the woman Grace had become. Sylvia had smiled at the photo of the sunflower Grace had drawn in the sand, that day they’d walked along the beach together.
David turned the pages of the album carefully, and Grace sat there smiling. Then she turned a few of the pages over and pointed to a picture, obviously eager to show her father. Sylvia didn’t know which picture they were looking at, but it made the corners of David’s mouth turn up. He spoke to her softly, before putting the album aside to embrace his daughter.
Sylvia turned away to give them privacy, and leaned over Maria’s grave to place down the single sunflower she’d brought with her. Silently, she thanked Maria. Thanked her for taking care of Grace, for loving her, for being the mother Sylvia wasn’t able to be back then. She wished she could hug her the way she’d hugged David, but she couldn’t. She simply placed a hand on the cold, rough headstone, and somehow hoped to communicate just how thankful she was that her daughter had been well cared for. Maria’s life may not have been long, but Sylvia knew it would have been fulfilling, having Grace in it. And suddenly Sylvia felt a strong sense of responsibility, that although she wasn’t taking Maria’s place, she was taking on a new role in Grace’s life. At sixteen, it wasn’t her time. But now, at thirty-five, it was.
* * *
‘It’s not goodbye, it’s just see you later,’ Grace said as she stood next to Sylvia and her suitcase, waiting for the taxi to take Sylvia to the airport. They’d both stayed at Grace’s family home last night, and Sylvia had tried to keep her composure while being given the tour, but Grace could tell she’d felt quite emotional. Grace had lived in this house since she was a young child, and knowing this was where her daughter had lived all this time must have been a strange sensation for Sylvia. Grace’s dad showed Sylvia their photo albums, with pictures of Grace as a baby, a toddler, and on her first day of school. There was even a lock of her red curls taped to a page in the album. He’d shown her all of Grace’s school photos, although some years were missing; the years she’d been sick. Within only an hour or so, Sylvia had seen a compressed version of Grace’s life up till now. What pictures would take up residence in the photo albums of years to come she didn’t know, but she knew there’d be plenty of her at the piano. And maybe she’d meet some nice like-minded people if she got accepted into the conservatorium, and they’d become lifelong friends. Who knows, maybe she’d even meet a nice new guy, although she couldn’t bear the thought of that just yet. Her heart still ached for Jonah, but she’d try her best to move on. Empty albums awaited, and Grace was eager to fill them with new experiences.
‘Of course, it’s only a few months till your audition. I bet the time flies by,’ Sylvia said.
‘Make sure you keep in touch, okay?’
Sylvia picked up Grace’s hand. ‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’
Grace smiled. ‘I’ll be busy preparing for my audition, but I’m sure I can find some time to talk to you occasionally.’
Sylvia nudged her daughter’s ribs. ‘You better. And make sure you look after yourself. Get enough sleep, eat well, and take your tablets.’
‘Yes, Mum.’ Oops. She’d meant it as a figure of speech, but an awkward moment hung between them. Grace preferred to call her Sylvia, as ‘mum’ was…had been, reserved for Maria. The only mother she’d known until this year.
‘You know what, Grace?’ Sylvia said after a few moments. ‘I know I was young when I had you—too young to give you the life you deserved, but I’m so glad you were born. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.’
Something tugged at Grace’s heart. ‘I am?’
Sylvia cupped Grace’s face in her hands, and kissed her forehead. ‘You bet.’
Grace wrapped her arms around her mother and held on until the taxi pulled up in the driveway. The past few days had gone so fast, she didn’t want them to end. But Sylvia needed to get back to work, back to her life. And for Grace, her life was just starting. Her dreams were within reach and she was going to stand on her tippy-toes and grasp them with all her strength.
As she finally let Sylvia get into the taxi, Grace bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling, and as she waved goodbye while the taxi drove off, she could have sworn she could smell her mother’s perfume. Maria’s perfume. Her signature fragrance, Trésor. Maybe Sylvia had been wearing it? But she hadn’t seen it in her cosmetic bag in the hotel bathroom, and she hadn’t noticed the scent until now. Now that Sylvia was gone. The sweet fruity scent danced around her and accompanied her back inside the house, where her father was waiting with open arms.
Chapter 37
Mark had been away eight days when he knew it was time to go back. He packed up his tent and set off early Monday morning, arriving home by 11 a.m. The sun was intermittently making an appearance through the clouds, the sky mostly overcast. In contrast to the fine weather he’d had up north, Tarrin’s Bay was at its coldest. Although not known as a particularly cold area, it still had those days in winter where you were better off indoors with a hot drink and a heater.
Anxious to make the most of the day, Mark quickly packed away his belongings so he could get started. There were three things he needed to do. First, he went to his bedroom and picked up the photo of Cindy from his bedside table. Saying a silent ‘thank you’ for the memories they’d shared and the part she’d played in his life, he turned the photo frame over and removed the picture, placing it inside a photo album that contained pictures of his previous life at Welston. He put the empty photo frame back on his bedside table. When the time was right, he’d fill it with a new photo.
Then, he lifted the framed portrait of Cindy from the wall in the entry foyer and removed the picture, placing it inside the photo album too. In its place in the frame, he put a print he’d bought at a local art and craft market last week. It was a picture of a silhouetted person sitting on a lush green hill at sunrise, with a quotation that grabbed Mark as soon as he’d seen it: ‘You are the writer of your own life story. So get a pen, turn the page, and start writing!’
The quotation had double meaning for Mark. Not only was he moving forward towards the life he wanted for himself, he had a forgotten dream he needed to pursue. He fired up his computer, opened up his documents, and clicked on the folder titled ‘Books’. In there was a file called ‘BoostingAthleticPerformanceNaturally.doc’ and he double-clicked on it. The last sentence he’d written was ‘taking this supplement twenty minutes before exercise has been shown to’…and then he’d stopped. Cindy had screamed when she found a spider in the bathroom, and Mark had left his computer suddenly to see what was wrong. Then the phone had rung, and one interruption after another had prevented Mark from finishing that sentence. Then life took over and the manuscript went into extended hibernation, until now.
Mark still remembered what he’d been about to write, so without pausing to acknowledge this significant moment in his efforts to move on, he typed and completed the sentence…’improve oxygen uptake by fifteen percent, making it an excellent option for enhancing performance, endurance, and recovery’. He added a reference number in superscript, and updated his ‘references’ file that was to be included at the back of the book.
Mark tapped furiously at the keys, and by two o’clock found himself irritated by an inconvenient grumbling in his stomach. He defrosted and reheated a mug of vegetable soup he’d stored in the freezer, and sipped it while writing. The wind whipped at the branches of the tree outside, slapping the leaves at his window, as years of research and knowledge poured onto the screen, and he typed at a speed he couldn’t quite believe. It was as though he was racing down Death Hill again, but with his mind not his body.
At dinnerti
me, he ordered a Thai home delivery and sat briefly at the dining table to refuel; rushing back to his desk before he’d finished swallowing his last mouthful. Just like when he’d sorted through Cindy’s boxes, he seemed to work best in sudden bursts of activity, so he went with the flow and kept writing while the inspiration propelled him.
* * *
When Sylvia arrived home late on Wednesday afternoon, the town seemed empty without Grace. Grace had only been here for five months, but somehow she’d carved her own special place in the heart of Tarrin’s Bay. Come November, Sylvia would see her again. They’d planned to meet at the airport, and stay at Sylvia’s parents’ house in Sydney the night before the audition. It warmed Sylvia’s heart to see Grace pursuing her dreams. Sylvia herself could have quite possibly had a music career, but the urge wasn’t as strong compared to pursuing a medical career. But with her idea to play piano at nursing homes and hospitals, she now had an opportunity to combine both. She planned on making some phone calls tomorrow to see what she could arrange.
Sylvia unpacked, filed away her mail, then had the urge to clean. Although it wasn’t her scheduled house-cleaning day, she decided to give in to spontaneity and give the house a good vacuum. Once she’d started, she thought she might as well continue, so Sylvia cleared out the pantry and wiped down the shelves, washed the tiled floor, then went into the bathroom and did the same. She checked her cosmetics and threw out those that were getting old, replacing them with new ones she had stored away, before adding the items to her shopping list. That way she’d never run out and be left without items she needed every day.
Sylvia was about to close the bathroom cabinet door when she noticed the bottle of Trésor perfume. She picked it up and observed the little that was left, before throwing it in the bin. She hadn’t worn it in months, so why keep something she didn’t use? She then picked up the bottle of J’Adore and sprayed her neck and wrists, and gave a triumphant nod of her head as she looked at the sparkling results of her cleaning rampage.
The January Wish Page 25
